Los Angeles daily herald., 1887-08-19
Prison Poetry.

by female inmate at the County
Jail, who is almost continually con-
6ned there for drunkenness:
In this most wonderously progressive age,
where trifies oft the greatest minds engage,
when girls of ten are styled young ladies
Aao beardless boys smoke their cigars each
day.
when like a network over all the land
The railroad stretche cen from strand to
strand.
when friends tho parted far as zone from
some,
Speak to each other through the telephone.
When orange groves and wondrous blossoms
Fill with their fragrance all the balmy air,
Where once an arid desert stopped the way
Il seems to us as 'twere but yesterday;
When all the world with strength and vigor's
Aad fun of what men please to miscall
when ali the gift of posey may share,
A gift which once was thought both rieh
When every one a poem may indite,
And even school girls claim right to
unite;
what wonder that the Muse should higher
And louder sing than e'er she's sung be-
Should WOO Pegasus from his airy flight,
And bring him here to sing to us tonight?
''oh! natures noblest work, my grey goose
quill,
Slave of my thought. obedient to my win,"
A mightier than did once exclaim;
And with that simple pen carved out
name
That e'er will glitter on the scroll of fame.
An humber path tread. O pen of mine!
Thee do dedicate to Friendships shrine;
Content If thou will feed its lambent flame,
Till life's last morn shall dawn, and find it
still the same.
Come thou, my Muse, and e'er my courage
Sing we the wonders of the County Jail,
where rules supreme stern, relentless Fate
Which brings transgressors home, or soon
Yet one old adage would fain rehearse:
"NOthing's so bad but that it might be
worse"
Zen in Jail, where freedom is restrained,
Not all is lost but much is to be gained.
When erst the morn, with dawning rosy red,
Wakes each sound sleeper from his blanket
bed,
The big keys rattle and the big locks clang,
And every door in all the world goes-bang!
Then, reused from slumbers sweet and
happy dreams,
He wakes TO his luxurious meal of-beans!
Happy for him if he but like them, too;
Bc-ans he's got to eat or hungry go;
And when the night falls softly, gently,
And lights flash up oer all the distant town,
Within the jail are sounds of merry glee-
t'The boys" below holding high reyelry,
With song and dance, and lots of fun in
store,
They never tire = they're ready all for
They hold their mimic court with mimic
skill,
And try and sentence till they have their
Till nine o'clock clangs brazen on the air,
And then the turnkey lets them know he's
there.
Over them all, quiet, serene, and bland,
Mdwtn his forces with firm kindly hand,
The jailor fits, first up then down the stair.
He's ready as he's wanted-everywhere
His CHEEKY laugh full of infectious Joy,
Rings out by night and day-a very boy.
His heart is fresh, his feelings still are
And words of kindness ever on his tongue.
His gentle wife with sweetest word and
smile,
Does many an hour of fear or pain beguile.
Aud cen his daughter-just to help my
rhyme
Never Demurs at having good time.
What of the inmates of these prison cells?
Many are known to the ''dear public" well,
For here, the ubiquitous reporter waits,
Like the lost Peri knocking at Heavens
For Just one item, one sensational line,
In whose light he with added fire may shine.
If it be true why then so much the better.
If not, why nothing's true just to this letter;
The item must be had e'er he'll be paid.
He'll tax Imagination till It's made.
God pity those, who, trusting all too much,
Yield themselves once to reporters clutch.
Who in Les Angeles that cannot tell,
About the celebrated case Rozelle?
Judge not from papers-judge not from re-
port,
Nor yet from all the "business" of the court;
True gentleman and lady every way
Verdict of all who see them both each day.
Nor think we fail some knowledge good to
gain
We travel every day as far as Spayne.
Our pictures we'll exhibit by and by;
While Morris lives true Art can never die.
Asmy Muse fingers, can do no less
Than say one little word for Bob and Bess,
Their own worst enemies, yet true and kind,
Too much to fun and jollity inclined.
All! well; the future has some good in store,
Kind angels-if there be such beings bright
Watch DER and guide them on their -ay
Alright.
A little world within itself--a book,
Where one must read by signs, from word
and look;
where human nature, seeming at its worst,
May prove blessing, not thing accursed,
And they who of this motley crowd love care
May entertain bright angels unaware,
Ny Muse is weary; so indeed am l,
And 30, guess, are you'll say goodbye,
Only presuming, ere fully close,
This dOggerel is writ by
ONE WHO KNOWS.